


Sketch

by heckmedic



Series: TF2 Oneshots [2]
Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-11
Updated: 2016-02-11
Packaged: 2018-05-19 18:17:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5976559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heckmedic/pseuds/heckmedic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Medic liked to think he had a fairly good idea of everyone's personalities (being up to your wrists in someone else's chest cavity tended to bring about that kind of unexpected intimacy) and so he found his sketchbooks being filled with other things than studies from anatomy textbooks.</p>
<p>Unfortunately, teammates didn't sit still for hours on end so he could draw them. Unless, however, Medic happened to catch them sleeping.</p>
<p>Shirtless.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sketch

Medic kept most of his talents to himself. Some of them, he was quietly proud of...Others, less so. Being able to draw was one of the quiet pride talents. Being able to do that thing most guys wished they could do was definitely something more shameful. That, however, was not what took hold of him the first two months after being with the team.

By that point, he liked to think he had a fairly good idea of everyone's personalities (being up to your wrists in someone else's chest cavity tended to bring about that kind of unexpected intimacy) and so he found his sketchbooks being filled with other things than studies from anatomy textbooks. Usually, his drawings were flawless. Graphite marvels wherein every coronary artery of a heart could be seen, every capillary in the white of an eye detailed. But his teammates didn't sit obediently on his desk for hours on end in pools of blood like hearts and eyeballs did (well, sometimes. But not without chloroform being involved.)

Consequently, these sketches were considerably more...Well, sketchy. He enjoyed the challenge observing fleeting movements brought. Two whole pages of his current sketchbook were dedicated solely to Scout, as Medic watched covertly from his infirmary window, trying to capture the younger man's wind up to hitting a home run again and again. He was getting better, but Medic felt that that unique twist and flex of the batter's supple body still eluded him. Spy made appearances too, though only his hands. As much as Medic abhorred smoking, there was no denying the wonderful ways a cigarette encouraged a man to hold his hands.

The crossover between Medic's prideful talents and shameful talents occurred faster than he'd expected. Sniper had been the last to stretch out reluctantly under the Medi Gun and fall beneath the anaesthetic, ready for the Über implant. But as he'd lain back and slipped quietly into sleep, Medic had stopped and stared slightly at the wonderful opportunity to snoop.

Sniper was a shy and reserved man, anyone could tell that. But he was also a very good looking man, which was considerably harder to tell with all the uniform and denim in the way. But on Medic's operating table, he was bare-chested. Medic was entranced by the steady rise and fall of his breaths, and the wonderful way it made his flat belly curve and then go flat. He didn't think of it then as he began the operation, but he cursed himself endlessly hours later when page after page was hurled into the paper bin as he failed to bring to mind that lean body again and commit it to paper.

So it quickly became Medic's private quest to do the same to Sniper as he had to Scout; sit, watch and sketch. This time, shirt off. That was undoubtedly going to be the tricky part. The move to Dustbowl was a blessing in disguise, however. Under the warm rays of the sun, Sniper visibly changed, settling back into his preferred habitat easily where Scout and Demo sweated and grumbled. The tan gradually returned to his face, making the crows feet around his eyes appear to laugh all the more. And Sniper relaxed more too; now, if he wanted to read his newspaper outside, he could, without fear of freezing to death. Engineer had kindly erected a garden parasol next to where he kept his van parked. That parasol ended up being the salvation to Medic's problem.

It was a Friday and the team sighed with relief as they could change into their comfy clothes for the weekend and just do absolutely nothing. For Medic, that meant inventory when he got the chance and more sketching. For Sniper, that meant sleeping. Outside. Without his shirt on.

Perfect.

Medic stumbled upon the scene entirely by accident-there wasn't really much that brought him to the edge of base where Sniper staked his claim aside from letting his doves out to peck. Engineer had provided for that too, a perfect little wood and chicken wire enclosure for the birds to peck around in and put to rest Medic's fears of them flying away. He'd just brought the last two out from the dovecote in the infirmary when he heard the snore. It wasn't especially loud, but in the silence of the desert it carried easily over the gentle coos of the birds.

With a quiet step, Medic glanced around the corner of the coop towards Sniper's van with curiosity. From where the parasol was set up, he couldn't see anything of the Australian other than his long legs stretched out on the lounger. His feet were bare. That was what piqued Medic's curiosity-Sniper almost never took his boots off. "case I need to get anywhere quick." he had said.

All of a sudden, the moleskine in Medic's back pocket began burning a hole through his jeans. He glanced at the doves, then back at Sniper. He tapped his foot anxiously. He should just leave. What an invasion of privacy anything else would be!

So of course, he pulled out his sketchbook and flipped to a clean page, removing his pencil from where he'd tucked it behind his ear. He quietly walked around and approached the van again(if he'd gone too close straight off, Sniper would've woken straight up. The man had a sixth Spy sense apparently) and nearly dropped his pencil in surprise. He was going to sketch Sniper anyway-catching people sleeping always guaranteed a good drawing because they wouldn't move until they woke up. But Sniper sleeping shirtless-it couldn't have been any better.

Medic swallowed and forced himself to put pencil to paper and not waste this chance just staring. He immersed himself in the drawing entirely; sweeping lines became the Australian's long legs. Broads swathes of graphite smudged with his fingertip showed the dark stonewash of his jeans. Tiny pecks with the pencil tip dotted dark hairs down his belly, down, down and- _whoa, down boy_.

Medic carefully avoided looking too hard at Sniper's crotch again lest his imagination run away with itself a second time. Everything else came together with as much ease as the first attempt to capture Sniper shirtless hadn't. His hat shaded his face perfectly, shifting focus onto the content smile on his lips. His hand rested just so across his chest, the other up above his head, showing off nicely the arm muscles flexed and unflexed. The way the jeans had ridden low on his narrow, angular hips was just another treat. Medic relished depicting those bones with two sharp, simple motions of the pencil in particular.

He supposed he'd been standing there drawing for maybe twenty minutes, half an hour, when his luck finally ran out. From behind him, beside the dove coop, was a very distinctive and poorly concealed snigger. Medic's head snapped up at the same time as Sniper's, but in the brief fumble he had with his hat, Medic didn't have time to disappear or think of a smart excuse. He stood there, mortified and immensely jealous of Spy's watches, as Sniper yawned and put his hat back on. By then, Scout had seen everything and came swaggering over, running his thumbs along the stitches of a baseball.

"Aw, c'mon Doc, lemme see." He coaxed, reaching for the sketchbook which had been snapped shut.

"Nein."

"Stop bein' such a Goddamn hardass-"

"Nein! It is private!"

That was the complete wrong thing to say. Slowly, a conniving grin spread onto Scout's face and his irritating but defensible grabs for the sketchbook became full on lunges. Medic did the usual taller man trick of holding Scout at arm's length and holding the sketchbook up high with the other. He was so concerned trying to keep the shorter man at bay that he didn't hear the lounger creak softly as Sniper rose, nor his footsteps as he approached across the soft sand. It was simply that one moment, the sketchbook was firmly in his grasp and the next Scout had switched targets, leaving Medic standing awkwardly.

Sniper had his back to him now and was pressing the little moleskine close to his chest between his folded arms.

"Snipes, c'mon, man, it's so little there can hardly be anythin' in it-"

"Then why're so damn interested, boy?"

"Don't call me "boy", old man! God, it's just a fuckin' notebook."

And as quickly as that, all of Scout's bluster had left him and he stalked back to base, leaving a trail of footprints in the dust. For want of somewhere to put his eyes other than on the golden, toned skin of the man beside him, Medic watched Scout until he was gone, then watched the door slapping in the breeze. There was a gentle tap on his shoulder; when he turned, the sketchbook was held out in a creased brown palm. Medic took it tentatively, looking under the shadow of Sniper's hat to meet his eyes.

"You...Aren't going to look at it?"

Sniper shrugged.

"Like Scout said, s'just a notebook, right? Not sure why you'd be standin' right there writin' in it though." A teasing smile tugged at Sniper's lips and Medic sincerely hoped his little problem from earlier had gone away. "speakin' of, were you gettin' ideas for your next mad scientist plot?"

It was a gentle poke, but Medic gratefully fled to the cover it offered anyway.

"No. Yes. Not like that-not mad scientist notes."

"So you are a mad scientist?"

"Nein! Gott, that's not what I meant." he floundered, embarrassment fading as Sniper laughed a quiet, throaty laugh that made his shoulders bob. Freckled shoulders.

_Stop staring, Felix._

Sniper seemed not to notice. A moment of silence passed.

"So are you gonna tell me what's in the notebook?"

Polite curiosity, nothing more. However, Scout was undoubtedly running his mouth already and Medic decided it was better to give up the secret than having it torn from him later. He flicked the leather cover of the moleskine with his thumb and diverted his eyes to the sand.

"It...Is a sketchbook."

He felt rather than saw Sniper's eyebrow go up.

"I didn't know you drew."

"Up until now, nobody did. It was a...Personal hobby, nothing more."

"Shame Scout had to go an' ruin that."

It was Medic's turn to shrug as the wind played with his hair.

"It was bound to happen at some point. At least now I can take some of the wind out of his sails."

That was a good place to leave the conversation. Sniper nodded and reached back to scratch his back.

"Well, lemme know if you need any help keepin' that ankle biter out of your way, Doc."

"I will. Good day, Sniper."

"You too, mate."

Medic was nearly at the other side of the dove coop when Sniper called back to him;

"Hey, Doc?"

"Ja?"

He watched Sniper nervously card through the hair at the back of his head. Even at a distance, he was magnificent. _Slow down, Felix._

"You weren't...Drawin' me were you?"

Medic grinned and tucked his pencil back behind his ear. That made Sniper gulp and divert his eyes.

"And if I was?"

"Just wonderin'."

"I'm sure this will undoubtedly get sent round the table at dinner. Don't be late for the exhibition, courtesy of Scout."

And with that, he left Sniper standing barefoot and bare chest under the sun, with only his doves for company.

Oddly, he wasn't worried or upset about his little hobby having been found out. He supposed the only real concern was what-if anything-would be said about his most recent drawing. That, he supposed, would have to be taken with a grain of salt and perhaps a few stitches for Scout with no local anaesthetic next time he cut his arms open scrambling over window ledges. His opinion, however, had changed considerably after he had a few hours to ferment over it.

It was his and Engineer's turn in the kitchen and whilst they weren't incapable at cooking, they certainly weren't the best. Medic tried his best not to burn anything, lest it provoke Scout. Maybe if he just sat and ate quickly and quietly, he could disappear without-

"Hey, Doc, hurry up will ya, I told the boys you've got something to show 'em!"

Shit.

He slammed Scout's plate down especially hard before sitting in his usual spot and picking at his own dinner. But by then, the damage was already done and now they were all crooning at him to see whatever it was. Sniper, he noted, stayed out of the argument. Medic thought he could stand it and just let them all be disappointed, but six or seven curious mercenaries was more persuasive than he thought.

"Oh, fine!" he hissed, yanking the sketchbook out his pocket and throwing it on the table. They all stared at it as it fell open, revealing the double page spread committed to sketches of Scout.

"Hey, what the heck, man! I thought this was a notebook!"

"You have been wrong before." Medic replied sharply. As Scout looked at the drawings, he withered slightly in his seat.

"But....Why'd you wanna draw me?"

He picked up the sketchbook tentatively and looked over the drawings, gently flicking off breadcrumbs which had landed on the open page.

"I drew everyone, Scout, don't assume you're anything special."

If those words hurt Scout, he didn't show it, instead passing the sketchbook over to Spy. His only question was a searching look sent over the table to which Medic said nothing. And so it went on, with the moleskine being passed around the table surprisingly gently. Medic was grateful that Engineer had the sense to just show it to Pyro and not give it over-Medic would prefer for his hard work not to end up in a pile of ashes.

And then, they found _that page_.

Soldier stared at it for a moment before a wide grin spread onto his face. Whatever courtesy Scout had shown at the start was completely forgotten as he yanked the sketchbook out of Soldier's hands and gave the man on the page a wolf-whistle. Sniper glanced at Medic, but the German had shaded his eyes with his hand and was sincerely wishing for this to just end.

The table shuddered as everyone piled round, trying to get a glimpse. In the chaos, no one heard Medic sigh and excuse himself from the table to put his plate in the kitchen. Sniper watched him go, having not joined the fray, and decided that enough was enough. With wiry strength, he separated the children and took back the moleskine, snapping it shut.

"What, you don't wanna see, Snipes? It's, uh, very flattering-"

That earned a chorus of sniggers. Medic tensed up where he was stood at the sink.

"Aye, lad. Maybe y'should pose for him next time!"

And then the sniggers erupted into full blown laughter. He silently exited the kitchen from the other door and started heading back to the infirmary. Sniper resisted the urge to say anything and left with the moleskine in hand, determined to defend it if anyone should come after him. But by then, the novelty had worn off and arguments were started over other things.

The hallway was empty and quiet. Sniper could hear the bickering coming from the mess hall, punctuated occasionally by Demo's roaring laughter or Soldier's sharp barks of mirth. A light bulb flickered over head. The moleskine felt like it weighed a lot more in his hand than it really did _. Maybe you should pose for him next time._

Sniper fought with himself for a few moments, rubbing the stubble on his jaw. So what if Medic drew him-he had drawn everyone at some point, hadn't he? But something about the way Scout had laughed and Demo's jibe made Sniper think there was something...Different in the little sketchbook.

Sniper wasn't Spy-he didn't relish invading the privacy of others. So he flicked through the sketchbook without so much as glancing at the other pages, looking for the most recent entry. He nearly skips right past it-Medic seems to flit to and fro in his sketchbook, not starting at the front and moving forwards. But there's a little date scribbled in the corner and he noticed that it was today's date, so he steeled himself and looked.

At first, he didn't understand what he was looking at, but even Sniper could tell that more effort had been put into this drawing than most others in the same sketchbook. He gently traced the flowing pencil lines with the tip of a finger, brow creasing. I didn't have my jeans that low, did I?

He decided to just give the sketchbook back before looking at that drawing made him anymore self conscious. But not before having a closer look-he'd already opened it, hadn't he?

In truth, he was looking for something particular. Artists studied the world around them, right? So maybe, just maybe, there'd be a few self portraits in here. And there, right on the back page, was what Sniper had been looking for. He must've been standing in a fairly dark room when he did it, because the scene in the mirror was all greyed out, aside from the artist himself. A beam of light struck across his bare chest, highlighting the edge of the notebook he held. There was a scar just underneath his sternum, all shiny and knotted. Sniper had the sudden urge to touch the paper there, even though he knew it wouldn't feel like skin. In the sketch, Medic's eyes were directed down at the sketchbook, his head dipped down just slightly, at the correct angle for the harsh light to cut across his cheekbones and spark in one eye. Sniper hadn't thought until then about Medic's cheekbones, but now he couldn't get the thought out of his head. And how lean he was too! All toned, lithe muscles getting just a little soft around his belly, aside from his arms, which were curved with strength. The Medi Gun must be heavier than he let on.

In spite of himself, Sniper whistled lowly in the hallway. He didn't allow himself time to question whether that was marvel at the artist's skill or at the artist himself.

Ok. That was enough. Time to give this back.

Medic was nearly at the infirmary when he heard long strides jogging up to him.

"Oh, Sniper. What can I help you with?"

"Nothin' Doc, just that you left somethin'"

Medic took the offered sketchbook and looked at the black leather cover for a moment, tasting his words carefully.

"Do...You agree with what Scout said?"

"How d'you mean?"

Medic smiled softly.

"I believe he said that it was flattering. I was wondering if you happened to agree."

Sniper tensed up, considering lying but deciding against it. He slumped again, guilt calling a blush into his cheeks as he ran a hand nervously through his hair.

"Well, I guess so, but I ain't the artist here, Doc."

Another gentle little laugh. Now aware of what he looked like under the lab coat, Sniper's blush got worse as he thought about what that laughter did to his stomach, how it likely made that scar twitch just so.

"You flatter me, Sniper."

"Heh, not so well as you flatter yourself, Doc. I don't think Scout knew what he was missing when he didn't look right to the back."

Medic deadpanned for a moment before he caught on. Then it was his turn to blush as Sniper laughed quietly, evading the taller man's gaze and pretending to be interested with the infirmary door windows. Oh, what the hell, he wasn't going to get any younger. If Sniper wanted to flirt, he'd better expect the same in return. Medic straightened up and tucked the moleskine away in his pocket, catching Sniper's glance out of the side of his eye just before he entered the infirmary.

"Oh, and Sniper?"

"Yeah?"

"Feel free to take Demo up on his suggestion any time. Candid sketches lack the...Intimacy of something posed."

Sniper caught on that word as the infirmary door flapped shut behind Medic.

_Intimacy. Posed._

Damn Medic and his smooth accent. Sniper wouldn't miss that chance for the world.

**Author's Note:**

> AN: I like to entertain the idea that Medic draws, and that Sniper sunbathes. This fic ended up being a wonderful convalescence of the two.
> 
> As always, please comment with what you enjoyed (if anything) in this fic and anything you think I can improve on! Reader's comments help me immensely, both for motivation and constructive criticism.
> 
> ~Leon
> 
> Like what you've read? [Please consider leaving me a tip!](http://www.paypal.me/heckmedic)


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